


When Peter met Stiles... at a grocery store.

by PipeDreams



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1860351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipeDreams/pseuds/PipeDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Peter meets Stiles at the grocery store? Well, sparks fly of course. But what kind of relationship could they possibly have when Peter is hell-bent on never falling hard for someone ever again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Peter Hale looked balefully at the array of ingredients on the marbled table top. All the ingredients were there, all but one key ingredient in making his grilled sirloin steak. He glanced at the beef ribs and considered making short rib stew instead but immediately dismissed the idea. He was craving for a nicely grilled piece of steak and that was what he was going to make. It had been awhile since he was at the stage of denying himself anything. Life was too short, as he painfully discovered two years ago. He would not let the idea of going to the 24-hour grocery store a few minutes away from his place deter him from getting what he wanted. It was time he stopped relying on the online supermarkets, they have always delivered subpar quality fresh food items anyway.

  
He walked to the bedroom and winced a little at the ache in his right thigh. Two years and the pain still persisted, as if the memories of that night was not enough, no, he needed to be reminded of it by the physical pain that continued to wrack his body every now and then. Being crushed in a collision with a truck, and being trapped in a car would do that to you. He was lucky to have gotten out alive people said. Peter didn’t think so. If he were really lucky, he would have died along with his wife and unborn child.

  
He wondered what his wife would have said at the condition of the penthouse he lived in; the kitchen that a professional chef would be green with envy with, the bathroom with a Jacuzzi and multiple jets that soothed his aching muscles at the end of a particularly long day, the rustic French bedroom with a chandelier hanging on the roof, near the foot of his teak four-poster bed. He was a man who appreciated luxury while his wife was alive, and with her death he had only sunken further into hedonism. He snickered at the memory of her chiding him for impulsively purchasing a country house she had fallen in love with. That house had since been sold, he no longer had any use for it.

  
***

  
Zbignew Przemko Stilinksi was in the produce section picking out a spaghetti squash when the bell chimed, indicating someone had entered the store. He looked at his watch and placed a guess that it was probably someone in need of beer or condoms. No one went shopping at three in the morning unless they were in desperate need, the need to sustain the euphoria that came out of alcohol intoxication or the need to fulfil one’s sexual arousal. Stiles placed the squash he had picked out in his basket and walked quickly to the cashier counter, taking his place behind it. He glanced at the security monitor and spotted the man in the meat section, standing stock still, staring intently at the slabs of meat in front of him. Alright, so maybe he was wrong.

  
While waiting for the man to finish his shopping, Stiles scanned his own items and staff discount card, packing them into separate bags before placing them to one side. One reason he loved working at ‘The Essentials Emporium’ was because of the ten percent discount granted to employees on all merchandise. He needed to cut on his expenses where he could, especially after the recent event of his father getting out of hospital. The heart attack only made him more vigilant of his father’s dietary habits. He didn’t want to lose another parent, especially one who had raised him singlehandedly since his mother’s death when he was nine, ten years ago. Ever since then, he and his father had been each other’s pillar of strength.

  
Stiles peeked at the monitor again and saw that the man had finally decided on the cut of meat he wanted. It only took fifteen minutes. Some people sure took their meat seriously. Stiles snickered at the innuendo. He looked on as the man seemingly headed straight for the cashier counter without purchasing anything else. The man strode with a slight limp in his gait, with brisk and sure steps. This was a man who knew what he wanted, and would go all out to get it. Stiles hoped he wasn’t an arrogant asshole.

  
When the man was a few meters away from his counter, Stiles took a good look at him. The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties, broad in the shoulders, dark brown hair tamed into a combed semi coif, navy polo shirt and neatly pressed black slacks. What sort of man dressed himself up to go to a grocery store at three in the morning? Stiles didn’t recognize the man’s face from any tabloid cover and doubted that he was a celebrity wanting to avoid the masses. Stiles acknowledged that this man could probably be an actor if he wished, his strong features, deep-set blue eyes and square jaw would definitely appeal to women and some men. As the man stood directly in front of him, Stiles felt a frisson of awareness. Of course he would be attracted to the rugged older man with a fit body.

  
“Zbignew Przemko Stilinski.” The man pronounced his name perfectly. At that moment, he didn’t hate the store owner’s policy of having all his employees full name printed on their name tags. Instead, Stiles wondered whether the man would mind if he asked him out on a date. No one besides his parents and himself could pronounce his name correctly, especially not on the first attempt.

  
“Uhmm, yup but I prefer to be called Stiles,” Stiles replied, groaning inwardly, before his training kicked in. “Good morning sir, I hope you’ve found everything you wanted?” Stiles smiled, looking at the man across him, without needing to look downward. The man was tall, Stiles himself was five feet nine.

  
“Yes, but is this the best meat you’ve got in here?” The man nodded at the steaks in his basket. Stiles took a closer look and noted the sticker indicating that it was USDA Choice.

  
“It is the best we have sir, we don’t stock USDA Prime in this store unfortunately. The sirloin filet you have chosen will still be juicy and flavorful as long as you cook it right.”

  
“Indeed.” The man stared at him, and for a moment Stiles felt like he was one of the pieces of steak the man had gazed so intently at earlier.

  
“Will you be getting this then sir?” Stiles asked as the man continued to stare at him, a little bit uncomfortable at the attention.

  
“Might as well.” He reached into his back pocket and took out a card, passing it to Stiles.

  
Stiles glanced at the details on the American Express prepaid card as discreetly as he could before scanning it. Peter Hale. He could now call out a name when he pleasured himself later. He wrapped the plastic-covered steaks in newspaper and placed it in a brown paper bag. ‘The Essentials Emporium’ was also an environmentally conscious company, which meant that certain items had to be packed to prevent moisture from seeping into the bags.

  
“Have a nice day sir, and please do come again.” Stiles handed the bag to the man, Peter, and smiled.

  
“I just might,” Peter answered, a slight smirk on his face.

Stiles stared at Peter’s ass as he exited the store. He hoped Peter dropped by more often. It sure would liven up his shift at the workplace. Not many people came in after midnight, customers only coming into the place when his shift was about to end at seven in the morning. And of course, none of them, not even the regulars, could pronounce his name.

***

Peter’s walk back to his place was a contemplative one. He had flirted with a man, felt that familiar arousal pulling him toward Stiles. Of course it would happen on one of the rare occasions where he needed to go out and face the rest of the world. Peter had hardly been celibate after his wife’s death. The first few weeks after he was cleared for physical strenuous activity by his doctor, he frequented the bars, hooking up as often as he could. Partly to assuage his physical needs, but mostly to forget his dead wife and child, if only for a few rapturous instants. He couldn’t recall the names nor the faces of the women or men he had slept with during that time period. They were only a means for him to forget his pain, nothing more. The interaction with Stiles though was different. The sexual attraction was there. Stiles was an attractive man, taller than he was by an inch or two, lean and slightly muscled, dark brown hair closely cropped to his face, liquid amber eyes which sparkled with wit. Stiles was also clearly attracted to him from the way he obviously eyed Peter earlier. Peter could still feel his gaze on him as he walked out of the store, he had glanced at the reflective clear doors which revealed Stiles staring quite intently at his ass. He needed to stay away from Stiles. There was no more room in his life for a relationship, the last one nearly killing him physically, and still causing him pain mentally. He was never going back to ‘The Essentials Emporium’ again.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter’s resolve lasted only two weeks. He stood in front of the mirror and glared at himself. It was frustrating how he took extra care in his appearance tonight. It was almost laughable really. He was a thirty five year old man lusting after a mere boy, and getting ready to go to the store as if it was their first date. Peter wondered whether this was the midlife crisis people often talked about. He fought the urge to take off the deep green polo shirt he had carefully chosen. A particular shade of green his wife once commented brought out the blueness of his eyes. Checking his hair one last time, Peter walked to the living room to grab the grocery list he wrote earlier. He hoped he would see Stiles again. After all, he had timed to do his grocery on the same day and at the exact same time as his prior visit. The likelihood of Stiles being the employee on shift was quite high. Peter didn’t want to be disappointed.

“Hey Josie, how about some luck since you’re up there? Put in a good word for me.” Peter was not one to believe in a higher being but his wife, Josephine Hale was a devout Catholic. It was a miracle that their different beliefs didn’t tear their relationship apart. After one of their tiffs over Josie’s weekly church trips, they finally agreed to disagree. Josie always said that she’d pray enough for the both of them. “I miss you Josie, you and our child.” They had wanted their child’s gender to be a surprise. Peter never knew whether their child had been a girl or a boy. He’d have been happy with either, and besides it no longer mattered. 

***

The chime of the bell made Stiles’ heart beat faster. The last time someone came in this late or early, it had been Peter Hale. Peter who caused Stiles’ dick to be a little chafed from all the masturbation he had to resort to from his overactive imagination of Peter bending him over every horizontal surface available. Stiles was versatile, it didn’t matter what position he played as long as the sex was good. But Peter, he made Stiles want to submit, made Stiles want to present his ass on a silver platter daily. Stiles looked up and his cock twitched involuntarily at the sight of Peter Hale entering the shop. He could only stare back as Peter looked at him. This time, Peter’s limp was more pronounced, which explained the walking stick he held in his right hand. As Peter drew nearer, Stiles could make out the polished mahogany color with an intricate dragon head’s carving at the handle, a dragon head with eyes that sparkled a radiant green.

“Are those emeralds real?” Stiles blurted out.

Peter quirked an eyebrow at him before responding. “What do you think Przemko?” Peter’s eyes held a challenge, as if daring Stiles to call him out on owning fake gems.

Stiles took in Peter’s dapper appearance and the quality apparent in his articles of clothing; the polished gleam of his leather loafers, the well-tailored pants and the luxury watch Stiles was sure cost more than twice his annual income. Peter was obviously a man who enjoyed the expensive things in life. Usually Stiles would steer clear of the wealthy, especially as they came together in a package consisting of arrogance and sense of superiority. And yet he was drawn to Peter. Peter, whose self-confidence only made Stiles want Peter to pound into him harder.

“It’s a bit much isn’t it, emeralds in a walking stick?” Still, someone who spent so frivolously irked Stiles. Here he was trying to make ends meet and pay his father’s hospital bills while there were others in the world who could afford to spend money on exorbitant walking sticks. He tamped down on the feelings of envy and irritation, it was not Peter’s fault that he was wealthy and Stiles wasn’t.

“Do I detect annoyance in your tone Przemko?” Peter smirked, his tone mild.

“Of course not, sir, how can I help you today?” It would not do if his bluntness resulted in Peter lodging a complaint with his supervisor.

“Well Stiles, I wanted to ask you out on a date but I’m now reviewing my decision considering your distaste of… expensive things.” Peter glanced around the store before turning his gaze back to Stiles. “Since I’m here, I might as well do some shopping. Meantime, I hope you could place aside your aversion to affluence and contemplate on the idea of going out with me.”

Stiles rarely was at a loss for words but he could only gape when Peter turned his back on him and headed to the produce section. 

***

Of course Stiles would be one of those people not impressed by wealth. He was clearly attracted to Peter, but the idea of Peter having money and spending it on what he deemed as unnecessary luxuries put him off. Peter heard the derision and perhaps even envy in his voice clearly. Stiles was not well-off, that much was clear. Except for the employee shirt Stiles had on, everything else he wore was worn out. Stiles’ faded, thin jeans and scuffed sneakers not only revealed his preference for comfort, it also revealed his disregard for fashion and spending money on items he viewed as wants. Stiles lived within his means for a reason. Peter was going to work out what that reason was. A plan began to form in his mind as he took out his phone and dialed a number. 

“Hello, Steve, I need you to find out everything on Zbignew Przemko Stilinksi. Zbignew. Do you need me to spell it? No, alright, yes. I want to know his favorite snack, what he sleeps in, what his weaknesses are, everything. Just charge it to my billing account. Alright, thank you.”

***

“Will that be all sir?” Stiles asked as he totaled Peter’s groceries which consisted of Morels, salmon, grade AA eggs and organic kale and tomatoes. “You couldn’t purchase ordinary mushrooms?” Damn, but his filter from brain to mouth just wasn’t working today. He grimaced when Peter raised one eyebrow at his comment. 

“I was planning to impress my date with a salmon and morels recipe I intend to cook, but I guess I could let go of that idea since my date is adamantly averse to Morels.”

“L-look, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just –“

“Yes you did, I realize you couldn’t help but be blunt, it’s your nature. Still, it’s my money Przemko.”

Stiles blushed. It was Peter’s money. He had no right telling Peter how to spend it. “I’m sorry Peter.”

“You know my name. You’ve been holding out on me Przemko.” Peter grinned at the red-faced boy, man in front of him. 

“I saw it from your credit card,” Stiles mumbled.

“Are you talking to me or my right shoulder?” Peter’s smirk widened when Stiles looked up only to glare at him. “So, will you go out with me?”

“I… are you serious Peter?” 

“Of course I am, I wouldn’t have bought Morels otherwise.”

“This is not a joke!” Stiles’ nose flared, his eyes widening at the thought of Peter playing with him. 

“Of course it’s not, if you must know, the idea of getting you back to my place is very serious to me. So, will you, when your shift ends?” 

“I am nineteen you know.”

“And I’m thirty five. You’re still not answering my question. Does the idea of going out with a significantly older man put you off?”

“No! I’m just wondering what you would want with me. There are many other –“ Stiles next words were abruptly cut off when Peter grabbed his chin lightly, leaned in over the counter, and kissed him. It started gently, Peter’s lips were supple and warm, a pressure against Stiles’ own. Stiles breathed in Peter’s scent, his nipples tightening as Peter’s warm breath mingled with his own. When Peter made a move to release his lips, Stiles leaned forward, moaning in displeasure, his hands trying to clutch onto Peter’s shirt.

“Ssshhh babe,” Peter bit his lower lip gently before licking it. He breathed in deeply and took a step back. “We probably shouldn’t do this here. There’s nothing I want more than you spread out beneath me. Fuck.” 

Stiles looked at Peter in surprise. He doubted that Peter was a man who cursed very often. Peter’s right fist was clenched tightly round the handle of his walking stick. He stared at Stiles hard, heat in his gaze. 

“I’ll see you later Stiles.” Peter placed something on the counter, picked up his packed groceries and headed out the door. 

Stiles continued to stare as Peter’s figure walked out of sight. He glanced down at the counter where a hundred dollar bill laid, right next to a cream colored name card. He picked up the card, noting the embossing on Peter’s name and title. Financial consultant. Below it was Peter’s email address and contact number. Stiles turned the card over and looked at the address Peter had written down. The apartment complex was within walking distance of ‘The Essentials Emporium’. Stiles shift would be over in a few hours. He had more than enough time to decide whether he wanted to take up on Peter’s offer.


	3. Chapter 3

The cream coloured card stayed in Stiles’ hand throughout his walk to Peter’s apartment. Twice, Stiles stopped, considering to turn around while he still could, but he didn’t. He continued on walking, knowing very well that Peter was not a one-night stand that would easily be forgotten. He was already more fascinated with Peter than he should be. He hoped having sex with Peter would cause the fascination to lessen. Maybe sex with Peter would suck so bad that he would never think of Peter again, but he doubted it. The kiss between them cleared that up even if the man’s blatant sex appeal didn’t. Stiles was fucked. He was going to be fucked literally and gloriously by a customer and the sex encounter would leave him fucked mentally. 

Stiles stopped walking as the large building where Peter stayed came into view. He took a deep breath and gripped the handle to open the door, only to stumble when it opened widely. 

“Good morning sir,” the doorman greeted him with a barely discernible smirk. He was probably a few years older than Stiles, and properly attired entirely in black. He looked more put together than Stiles would ever hope to be. Stiles stuttered back a greeting before continuing on to the reception area where a dour man stood behind the counter. He was dressed similarly to the doorman, except for the additional tailored jacket and striped tie. 

“Hi, I am here to see Peter?” 

“Yes, Mr Hale informed me that he was expecting you. You may take the glass elevator. It will stop at Mr Hale’s floor.” 

“He has a personal elevator? Fucking of course.” Stiles muttered softly to himself.

“Sir?” The dour man looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhmm, nothing, thank you, I’ll just… yeah. Thanks.” Stiles walked quickly to the elevator before he made a bigger fool of himself. When the doors opened, he stepped inside before he could change his mind. He was here, he might as well take what he came for.

* * *

“He’s here.”

“Yes, thank you Derek.”

“And he wasn’t too impressed with the glass elevator either.”

“Why isn’t Scott on duty instead?”

“Because he had an important date… he looks a little too young for you doesn’t he?”

“Mind your own damn business Derek,” Peter said sharply. Derek may be his nephew but he had no say in how Peter lived his life.

Derek sighed. “Peter, we worry about you.” 

“I know, look Derek, I’ll be alright. He’s above the age of consent.”

“Fuck Peter, you know —“

“I will be alright. Stop worrying about me. And stop taking over the shifts when one of my employees is on leave. We have other people on rotation.” Peter knew Derek did it because he wanted to help keep an eye on poor uncle Peter. Peter did not need anyone’s pity.

“I’m your employee too you know.”

“Being a silent shareholder does not make you my employee and you know this. Derek —” The doorbell rang interrupting Peter’s thoughts. “He’s here, I’ll talk to you later.” 

* * *

Stiles’ heartbeat continued to increase rapidly as the elevator made its way up, he clenched his fist while forcing himself to breathe in and out slowly. It would not do to arrive at Peter’s door with a panic attack. 

“Yes Stiles, impress the sexy man you are planning to sleep with a panic attack. That should do it. He’ll ask you to marry him tomorrow.” Stiles muttered derisively to himself. “Fuck, I need to calm down.” He took in deeper breaths and exhaled slowly. 

The elevator doors slid apart soundlessly. Stiles stared at the white wall ahead of him, well, at an abstract painting to be exact. There were only two colours; the background consisted of a bright mustard shade, lighter in some parts and darker in the rest. Bold, black strokes were slashed repeatedly, dominating over the left side of the canvas. The black colour drew his attention even while the mustard refused to be swallowed up the darkness. 

“You plan to stay in the elevator all day?” Peter’s voice called out from the right side of the corridor. Stiles wondered how he knew Peter was amused by him, just by hearing the man’s voice. 

“No, but I’m wondering what I’m doing here in the first place.”

“Well, could you continue your wondering in my place. I’ve warmed up dinner… or is it breakfast now, for you. I’ll wait inside.” 

Stiles stepped out of the elevator, and walked on the grey-white marble floors that continued all the way to Peter’s apartment’s door. He wondered again what he was doing there, with his threadbare shirt and scuffed shoes, in a place that clearly reeked of wealth. When Stiles walked into Peter’s place, he snorted upon seeing that the marble floors covered the rest of Peter’s penthouse. Peter had money and he spent it as he liked. Feelings of envy and resentment crept up in Stiles even as feelings of attraction and sexual arousal dominated while he stared at Peter, who was leaning against one of the Greek reminiscent white pillars which donned the place. 

“Why do you even need pillars in this place? Do you fancy yourself a Greek god?” Stiles asked. 

“My wife was a fan of Greek architecture. It eventually grew on me. And besides, I might be the closest thing to a Greek god you’ll ever find.” Peter winked at him, his index finger beckoning Stiles. 

“You're not wearing a ring.” Stiles commented. He noted the use of “was” in Peter’s sentence and wondered whether Peter was divorced. And just in case, he wanted reassurance that he wouldn’t be stepping on anyone’s toes by sleeping with Peter. No matter how sexy he found Peter to be, he would not sleep with him if Peter was still married. 

“Yes, I took it off a while ago, after managing to convince myself that wearing the ring won’t bring my wife back from the dead.” Peter said, no trace of deep emotion in his voice. “Plus it was cramping my style.” Peter smirked, his eyes revealing nothing. 

“Stop.” Stiles could see Peter’s sudden taut posture, he was no longer as relaxed as before. Peter was still hurting even as he tried to hide his pain. 

“Stop what?” Peter asked in a light tone.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t talk about it. Stop making jokes when you’re obviously hurting.” Stiles looked at Peter who stared right back at him. 

Peter continued to stare at him for a few more moments. Stiles didn’t know whether he had offended the man or whether Peter was trying to read his mind. It was becoming almost disconcerting before Peter spoke.

“Let’s have dinner. The dining table is through here.” Peter turned and led Stiles into a dining alcove. There was a large window in the room, with an unobstructed view of the sky. It was beautiful, the reds, purples and yellows blending in the sky. He moved to get a closer glimpse of the majestic view. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Peter said softly, standing so closely that Stiles could feel his breath on his earlobe and Peter’s body heat behind him.

Stiles looked at the reflection on the glass and saw Peter looking at him. He saw Peter’s hand moving to touch his nape, drifting teasingly down his arm, leaving goosebumps along the way. 

“Peter,” Stiles called out, his throat dry. Stiles turned, wanting to face Peter instead of his mere reflection, but Peter held him tight.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you. Now I can.” Peter moved closer, his body a long stretch of heat behind Stiles’ own. Moist warmth tickled Stiles’ neck, moving to his ear, sharp teeth pulled at his lobe causing him to moan out loud. Peter’s right arm encircled his waist tightly, even as the other trailed fingers along his left thigh, moving dangerously close to his rapidly hardening penis. Peter’s own hardened shaft was poking his butt insistently, rubbing against it. 

“I wanted to have dinner with you first but I guess it can wait.” Peter murmured in his ear. “Shall we fuck while watching the sunrise?” 

Stiles moaned his assent. Peter’s left hand unzipped his pants, and stroked the outline of his penis through his underwear. His finger teasingly traced the tip in circles. 

“You’re wet.” Peter whispered hotly in his ear, tongue sneaking out tracing the ridges. “I like how you get wet so fast for me.” Peter’s hand formed a fist around his pulsing cock, moving up and down, and up and down. Tight and slow. The friction was killing Stiles. 

“Peter.” Stiles could only moan the man’s name. “S-stop, I’m gonna -“

“You can come Stiles, go ahead.” Peter started to thrust into the cleft of his cheeks.

“You said… fuck… you said y-you.” Stiles bit his lip as Peter’s grip around his cock tightened a fraction further, the strokes becoming faster. “Were gonna f-fuck me. So fuck me!” Stiles cried out. Peter had pushed his underwear away, lifting his cock out.

“Wait here. Don’t move.”

Stiles shivered slightly in the surrounding cold air, the heat gone along with Peter’s warm body. He stared at his reflection, his mouth open, lips reddened and puffy. Eyes wide with pupils dilated, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of perspiration forming on his face. His two hands rested on the window, probably dirtying it with his fingerprints and sweat. When did he rest them there? Stiles’ didn’t know. 

“Hurry.” Stiles whispered to himself, as he waited for Peter. His hole was aching to be filled.


End file.
